Beautiful, That You Are
by takesthesebrokenwings
Summary: Or, those five times when Chris' choice of clothes takes Darren's breath away. CrissColfer. Fluff, with only a bit nakedness in the end.


**1. Tight pants**

The first time you meet him, it's on set and he's wearing one of those very tight pants of Kurt's. A red one, you remember, and the fabric clings to his body, hugging every inch of muscle and curve and line of his legs and thighs and hips tightly. The jacket he's wearing looks really nice, too, a black leather one with zipped pockets on the front and the hem falling short above his hips.

He catches you staring and waves at you, his face beaming and lips curling up into a bright grin.

You clumsily wave back, blushing and cursing yourself for being so damn distracted.

**2. T-shirt**

Your eyes widen when you see him walking out of the bathroom.

He's wearing one of your T-shirts. The kind of shirt that is too big even for you, but the fabric feels so comfy that you keep them to wear at home. He's taller and slimier than you, so the shirt is just enough to cover his hips, but what it does is expose his shoulders, the milky, soft skin dotted with countless freckles.

However, it is his legs that make your eyes widen.

His long, slender legs, with the hairless skin and the softness of his thighs.

That, and the fact that he isn't wearing anything under your shirt, except for a pair of black, tight briefs.

He blushes furiously at your stare, the skin of his face and neck and chest reddening as he smiles shyly at you.

_Adorable_, you think._ And sexy at the same time_.

You take his hand and lead him to the couch. His body curls into yours as soon as you take your seats. You lean in and kiss his forehead. Then his nose. Then his lips. You reach your hand out to stroke his hair, which is still damp from the shower.

"So I took it that I can borrow some of your shirts when I sleep over?" He giggles.

"Of fucking course." You reply, breathless.

**3. Unitard**

The stage is so fucking hot you feel like your skin is melting into water.

But seriously, this is fun. It's more than fun, actually. Going on tour with the Glee cast—-the group of people who have stayed with each other more than a year, but who have met you and gotten to know you for just a few weeks—-is wonderful. The stress and fatigue is there, but the cast are welcoming and lovely all over—-smiling and beaming and singing with you and teaching you to dance and including you in conversations and jokes—-and there are so many fans, so many people with excited faces and banners that have their favorite things about the show on them (you couldn't help but blush and grin when you spotted some of you, and then of you and him in the crowd).

And then there's him, dancing to Beyonce every night of the show.

You've seen the video, cut out from the episode, on Youtube. But now you've come to realize that the live version is so, _so_ much better.

He's so full of confidence, you think, dancing on stage like nobody's watching. But then, what's not to be confident about? His dance is beautiful, and hot, with all the hip-swaying, knee-bending moves that leave him out of breath, hair messed up and face flushed with adrenaline when it's over.

A mixture of cute and adorable and beautiful and _sexy as fuck_.

You've loved the outfit he wears for this performance from the first time you saw it—-a black, long unitard with black sequent vest and shiny, black gloves—-but tonight, there's something different.

The black tie he usually uses has been replaced by a red one with blue stripes.

_Your tie. _

You squeak, licking your lips why you look at him with his back to the audience and lips swaying in delicious motions.

Quickly, you pull out your phone to check the song arrangments. After Single Ladies, there will be 3 more solos before the group number. 3 more performances until you both have to get out on the stage.

You smirk and put your phone back in your pocket, contently watching the rest of his performance.

You can think of a lot of creative ways to spend that free time.

**4. Vest**

"Hey there, stranger."

You tear your eyes from the book and look up. There he is, standing next to the open door with his body leaning against the frame and a smile on his face.

A vest today.

Your mind suddenly starts acting all silly and stupid and you don't know why. It's not like you have never seen him wearing a vest before. You have. Many times, actually, since you both are actors and actors usually have a lot of events to attend.

But still.

The vest. His body against the door frame. His relaxed smile.

All too quickly, you start thinking of a house. A double bed and a large wardrobe with both your clothes. A shared bathroom. Your books on the shelf next to his. A cute little puppy to befriend with Brian.

Maybe even some kids.

You snap yourself back to reality. From the look on his face, you know he could tell that you are—-_were_—-day-dreaming. You swallow thickly and smile back at him, trying not to blush too much.

"You're okay, honey?" He asks, looking at you funnily.

"Yes. Of course. I'm alright. How's your day? You want some dinner? We can order Chinese." You say quickly. He grins and laugh out a small whisper of _fine, but I'm starving_, so you pick your phone up to call the restaurant across the street while he flops down next to you on the couch, arms wrapping around your waist.

You wonder if it's normal just to want everything with someone so much, so soon.

**5. Nothing**

Still, looking at him standing naked in the middle of your bedroom, you know that there isn't any piece of clothes anywhere that could make him more beautiful than this.

You take in everything with your eyes, every feature, every curve and line of his body. His board shoulders and chest, covered in freckles. His pink little nipples, hardened against the the cold air. His soft, milky, unblemished skin. The moles that dotted across his back. His stomach, the muscles there moving with every breath he takes. His half-hard cock, big and strong with thin, red veins on the underside and wetness at the tip.

You look back up and into his eyes. His pulpils are wide and the color green has darkened.

"You're sure about this?" You ask, attentively.

He nods, smiling shyly. You take his hand and lead him towards the bed.

Later that night, when you're buried deep inside him, with your bodies hot and wet and lined up together and touching everywhere, you plant a soft kiss on his forehead and whisper against his skin: "You're beautiful."


End file.
